crossoverrpfandomcom-20200215-history
User blog:Masked Hero Z/Short Story:Hellion Angel
He wasn’t always like this. He was sure there was a time when he had hopes and dreams, where he may even had feelings. That time was long ago however, too long to remember correctly. A glimpse of something here, maybe a long off voice calling out to him there, but if someone were to try to tell him his past, he more then likely would tell them to stop. Whoever he had been died a bad death, a death forged by misdeeds and the blood of others. That’s what he guesses anyway, only bad people end up in Hell; staring down the boss of the place. Rias wasn’t really what he expected, less horns and fire, a bit more intimidating however. Joining her ever-growing army seemed better then eternal punishment, in fact he began to revel in the whole conscription. As time passed he began to change his own form to survive in the ranks, becoming a frightening being just seemed right to him. Black feathery wings adorned his back, a mask became his face, and his own weapon (A simple sword) already pierced into his abdomen. He even got commented by Rias about his new look. “You look like my bird-brained nephew." “Caw.” He was a natural hunter, swooping down; dive-bombing those who dare go AWOL against their goddess. That was his main goal at the moment, another newly conscripted solider had taken off, running for freedom. Too many people had been dying recently, none of them were really compliant enough to make it through the ranks. His current target was compliant however, even good at the jobs it was assigned. Just a bit unhinged, maybe it was the fact that it died protecting some judges, kept complaining it was “Only doing his job”. He just shrugged it off, it was none of his concern anyways, what was his concern was dragging the target back to Rias for punishment. It had gotten away with a couple of weapons, probably hoping to make it out of hell and back to life. Only people who did that were either really lucky, or in deep with the command. As he flew through the air, a single small light took notice in his vision. It grew bigger till he had to stop mid-air to avoid a collision, it appeared to be a sniper bullet, the target was somewhere high. He gazed around for the target’s vantage point, constantly moving to avoid being shot; even if it didn’t kill him it still hurt. Another shot sounded through the air, it barely missed one of his wings by a inch or so. The target had taken a chance, and now was going to pay for it. Following the trail of gun residue that hung in the air, he quickly flew to a far off rooftop, and landed behind the target. “You ain’t taking me back, freak!” The target was acting courageous. However, fear and anger crossed it’s face. “..you could have been a useful solider” He said, a faux sense of pity and sadness was hinted in his words, yet he moved his hands over to the sword stuck in his stomach, and without even so much as a flinch, removed it. The target seemed to be physically ill at this display, he didn’t care much though. “I’ll…” The target stuttered, it seemed to comprehend what kind of situation it was in now. Immediately diving to it’s left, the target grabbed a large, hefty looking club. It brandished it in the air, anticipating his attack. “Caw” He flapped his wings and rushed over to the target, slashing wildly with abandon. The target barely had time to make deliberate blocks, gaining a few nasty but non-fatal wounds in the process. They went on like this for a few more minutes, the target growing weaker from defending itself from the reckless slashes, and unlike the target, he was growing more frenzied from the fight. This was his one reason, he himself did not try to leave and live again: The love of the strife. The target’s blocks irritated him however, he slashed and slashed yet nothing quenched his thirst to see it bleed, a opening came up about half way through another parry. With nothing but a joyless chuckle, he snapped at the target with the mouth of his mask (which was no longer just a mask). He hit the target dead straight in the face, a soundless scream appeared to escape it’s mouth, as it dropped to the floor. The target wasn’t dead, that wouldn’t be possible. However, enough blood-loss would keep it sufficiently knocked out. As he brushed himself off, flatting any ruffled feathers, checking for any wounds, he could see the way out of Hell, it wouldn’t be any sort of task getting there with his wings. He looked back at his unconscious target, a joyless smirk spreading across his unseen mouth. “Tsk..not worth it.” He picked up his unconscious enemy and began the trek back to command. Category:Blog posts